


And All the Air Has Left the Room

by OpheliasWrath



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: All I can write is angst, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Cryogenics, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Or not, Personally Victimized By Civil War, Platonic Relationships, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sad, cryo, cryo sleep, that scene with the cryo sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliasWrath/pseuds/OpheliasWrath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky says he wants to go back into cryo sleep, all the air leaves the room.<br/>And Steve curls his finger nails into his palms so hard there is blood.<br/>And Steve curls his teeth into his mouth so hard there is blood.<br/>In retrospect he wishes he had said something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And All the Air Has Left the Room

**Author's Note:**

> All I can write are sad things. But also, who just decides to go back into cryo sleep like that?  
> This may be a precursor to the other sad things I wrote about Steve.  
> I just always picture Steve as a perfectly tragic figure.  
> Steve Rogers needs a hug.

When Bucky says he wants to go back into cryo sleep, all the air leaves the room.   
And Steve curls his finger nails into his palms so hard there is blood  
And Steve curls his teeth into his mouth so hard there is blood  
There are no words he can say in response to this, all of the air has left the room.

In retrospect he wishes he had said something, wishes they has argued and yelled, that he had curled his voice so hard into Bucky that there was blood. That he had told him no. That he couldn’t do this without him, not again. That they couldn’t be apart. That he couldn’t be alone. He wishes he had told him how much his being here meant to him, how much it had cost him, what the price of wholeness was. What it had taken for him just to have Bucky beside him, for him to take a stand on this one thing, what it meant for his no to mean something, in a world that only saw his face as a yes. It cost everyone he loves. His respect, his rationality, his identity as the man with the plan. It had cost him all the air in the room.

But he understands that his no doesn’t mean anything. That whatever plans he makes, whatever star spangled man he is, that it means nothing. It is empty space in an airless room. All Steve can think about are the way his hands felt as Bucky slipped through them.

He said no when he dropped Bucky, off the train and into the future. He said no, or he thinks he did, or he hopes he did, because if he didn’t what kind of man does that make him? He thinks he did but whenever he thinks about that moment he curls his eyelids into his skull so hard he sees blood. He didn’t want it to happen, he didn’t want them to be separated, but it feels like his fault, like he didn’t say no hard enough, didn’t curl his fingers into Bucky’s fingers hard enough to spare them all the blood. There was no one else there to hear his no.

He said no to Tony, about the accords, about prosecuting Bucky, about separating them again. He said no, and what kind of man did that make him? What kind of world was it that his no fell on deaf ears, fell into the airless void. Everyone was there to hear it. He refused to be alone again, he refused to live without him, and his whole world curled in on itself so hard he was still picking the shards out of his palms. He feels like this is his fault. In retrospect he wishes he had said something, as they had argued and yelled, he wishes that he had held on to Bucky and curled around him so hard that he could show them what it meant to share the same blood. All Steve can think about is how Bucky’s metal hand feels holding his flesh one.

Instead he sometimes wishes when he had seen Bucky, alive again but not alive, on the bridge, that he had replied to “who the hell is Bucky?”. In the months spent looking for him, in the chaos of finding him, when he curls the shied so hard into Tony’s chest that there is blood, as he exhales and feels like an airless room, he wishes maybe, that he had said, “No, you’re not him”. And what kind of man did that make him? All Steve can think about is the way Bucky always flinches when he touches him.

But it is him, it is Bucky. And it feels like his fault. So he curls his whole life into Bucky and holds on so tight this time that there is blood.

But it isn’t really him. And it feels like they are separated again, that they are alone all over again, and that’s why their having this conversation about cryo sleep. Because Steve has woken up every night this week with Bucky’s hands on his throat, and Bucky can’t uncurl his shaking bleeding fists, and all the air has left the room. Steve wishes he could say no. Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me again. But he feels like it’s his fault.

Steve, a super soldier, created to be a weapon, made to always be a yes. Who only wanted Bucky, a super soldier, forced to be a weapon, brainwashed only to say yes. Their refusal against their inevitable fate, whatever they say about themselves, whatever optimistic things Bucky is saying to him about being better in the future, they don’t seem to mean anything to Steve. When he holds Bucky for the last time, again, curls his body around him, he can hear both of their hearts, each pump of blood. Steve feels like something else is in charge of what happens to them, this path that he cannot seem to refuse. Someone else is driving the car, down a dark country lane, the assassin is waiting, no one is leaving alive, and Bucky’s name will be the last thing on Steve’s lips before he is strangled.

But he doesn’t say no. He lets him fall away again, still broken, re frozen. Bucky looks so peaceful in that moment, and Steve know that he will never that peaceful, the only thing that curls around him is his guilt. All Steve can think about are his empty hands.

When he is alone again he curls in on himself, and feels so empty that he’s sure he has bled out. Curls his eyes closed, curls his nails into palms to feel pain, lips into teeth to stop screams, arms into chest to stop breathing, to feel like all the air has left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> This works as a prequel to my other work (which hopefully I can list with this one as a series) if you wouldn't mind, please read that one right after this and comment if you can foresee any way out of all this angstyness, because Iv'e been trying to concoct a conclusion to that and I can decide what to do with it. Mostly because I can't seem to pick a pairing. I ship both Steve/Tony and Steve/Bucky almost equally, (does anyone else do this?! its a problem) and although this story sounds like it leans towards Stucky, that could definitely be platonic. or not. or whatever. ugh. help.
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated if you liked this even in the slightest ;)


End file.
